


Further to Fall

by WiliQueen



Category: Forever Knight
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-13
Updated: 2010-04-13
Packaged: 2017-10-08 22:16:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WiliQueen/pseuds/WiliQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old enemy resurfaces to exact revenge on Nick, and it's Natalie who pays the price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Completed February 1993.

_The balance isn't any harder_

_You've just got further to fall..._

_\--David Wilcox_

 

 

_   
_

_Beep._

"Hey, Knight, it's Schanke. Four-thirty p.m. Sorry to bug you on your day off, but nobody's seen or heard from Natalie since she left last night, and the folks in the coroner's office are getting a little antsy. I know you guys are pretty tight, and I thought you'd want to stop by her place, see what you can find out."

* * *

Nick could smell the blood from the stairs, and for a moment he held on to the hope that it was in some other apartment, any other apartment.

Rapping loudly on the door, he called, "Hey, Nat, open up! You got a lot of people worried."

No response, not even the sound of human breathing--though Sydney's feline presence was evident--and the blood-scent was undeniably within. Checking quickly to make sure he was not observed, he gave the door a hearty shove, forcing the stout deadbolt through the doorframe.

"Nat!" He reached the sprawled figure in a heartbeat, and in another knew he was too late. She was utterly still, not a breath, not a heartbeat, though he strained his vampire hearing for a hint of either. The grey tabby sat guarding his mistress, looking up at the detective as if beseeching him to help her.

Grief and black rage welled up in him, joined by a sharp stab of guilt when he saw the two neat holes in her throat. How had he thought he could shield her from his world? He should have learned by now--no matter what his intentions, mortals he got close to always paid the price.

"I'll find out who did this, Nat," he swore, his voice low and dangerous. "I'll find them, and they'll wish the sun had found them first!" He heard the floor beneath her carpet crack under his fist. "And no matter what I do, you'll still be gone," he added in a whisper.

After several minutes he collected himself somewhat and crossed the room to the telephone. Suddenly he froze, hand poised above the buttons, at the sound of a soft moan, followed by a confused meow from Sydney. Receiver still in hand, he watched in shock as Nat drew her knees up in a fetal position with a whimper like a hurt puppy.

"Oh, no," he said softly. "Oh, Nat, please no." A moment ago he had cried his grief for her death--and he had been certain she was dead--but this was infinitely worse. A tiny sliver of his mind pointed out that it was not too late to break her neck and spare her what must otherwise follow; it took no thought at all to know that he would never be able to do so.

She whimpered again, snapping him back into focus. Shoving aside his horror, he quickly dialed the coroner's office. "Hi, Grace, it's Nick Knight." He was surprised at the steadiness of his own voice. "Natalie says she called in sick this morning. The message must have been misplaced...Yeah, she's a little out of it, but I think she's starting to feel better. Sure. Thanks."

Settling the phone back in place, he turned his attention back to Nat. If he waited for hunger to drive her wide awake, she would be in agony before they reached his place; but she was close enough already that if he carried her to the car she would probably awaken en route, and he didn't like the thought of trying to calm her and drive at the same time. The only alternative was to try and awaken her before she was really ready.

"Nat?" Kneeling on the floor beside her, Nick propped her up in a sitting position, brushing unruly curls from her face. "Natalie, can you hear me?"

"Wha--?" Her voice was barely there, but she was responding.

"It's me, it's Nick. You have to wake up now." He took one of her hands, and she squeezed back. "That's right, that's good. Now, stay sitting up for me, can you do that?"

"Think so."

"Okay, good. I'll help you; I won't let you fall. Stay with me now." He was losing her, the hand in his loosening its grip. "Come on, Nat, wake up! Open your eyes and look at me."

She did, blinking several times as he came into focus. "Nick? What're you doing here?"

"One thing at a time. We're going to stand up now, and go sit on the couch for a minute. You ready?"

"Sure." She lurched to her feet without too much assistance, then took a reasonably steady few steps to the couch, where she lapsed into dazed silence.

Nick snatched up an afghan from a nearby chair and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Hey, stay with me here! Shock is not good, Nat, didn't they teach you anything in medical school? Keep talking. How do you feel?"

She thought a moment. "Thirsty."

"Well, that's no surprise; we'll take care of that as soon as we can. Can you walk out to the car?"

She nodded, but the huge hazel eyes staring at him were still glazed with shock, and she pulled the afghan tighter around her shoulders. "Hungry, though."

"I know, Nat. Come on, we're going over to my place."

"Sydney?" She looked around in sudden concern for the cat, who was right beside her on the couch. Sydney's affectionate purring registered on her before she saw him, and a perplexed widening of her eyes told Nick that she also heard the rapid feline heartbeat beneath it.

"He'll be okay until we get back, Nat. Come on."

By the time he pulled the Cadillac into his garage, Natalie was nearly doubled over in pain and Nick was finding it increasingly difficult to act now and think about it later. He had his doubts about whether she would thank him for this when she could think straight again--though she was well aware of what would happen if she tried to go without--but he certainly couldn't stand by and let her suffer. They'd just have to take this mess one step at a time, and any way he looked at it the first step was getting her fed.

"It's all right, Nat," he told her inanely, guiding her to the elevator. "Everything will be all right." It wouldn't, of course, and lying to her hurt as much all the rest. He couldn't recall ever lying to her before. But right now he couldn't tell her the truth: nothing would be all right, not ever again.

It didn't take long to reach their destination, though he doubted she even noticed where she was. The world wouldn't be making much sense to her right now; the unaccustomed acuity of her senses would cause overload until she got used to it, and on top of that her body was shrieking demands her mind couldn't interpret.

Once the bottle was in her hands, though, instinct took over and she gulped it down without hesitation. When it was empty, he gently pried it from her hand and set it on the floor next to the chair, out of her sight.

He knelt by the chair, giving her a moment to pull herself together. "Better?"

"Yeah." She looked around in surprise. "How did we get here?"

Well, she was lucid. Time to face facts. "Natalie," he began, "do you remember what happened when you went home last night?"

She frowned. "Of course. I--" The words stopped abruptly, and she clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Who was it? Do you have any idea?"

She shook her head, swallowed hard. "But he was waiting for _me_, Nick. He knew who I was, and he knows you."

He could have guessed that. "I'm sorry. I should never have dragged you into my problems. None of this would have happened if I'd left you alone, stayed in my own world where I belong!"

"Stop it, Nick!" she told him sharply. He looked up at her in surprise; she sat straight and determined, that familiar set expression suddenly in place. "This is not your fault."

"Isn't it? It's never safe for mortals to get close to us, Nat, and I _knew_ that!" He snatched up the bottle and headed for the kitchen as an excuse not to face her. "But I had to be stupid and selfish and make you a target. I have no business having friends."

"Hey, wait a minute here!" He heard her stride up behind him. "I'm your friend because I _want_ to be. It's not like I didn't know it was dangerous; there've been times when you frightened me half to death. But you can't just keep people from caring about you, and risk is part of that no matter who you are." When he gave no response, she grasped his shoulder and spun him around to face her. "Nick, will you at least look at me?"

Then she stopped short--because the jerk she had given him had slammed him against the refrigerator, rattling the bottles inside.

It was several seconds before she found her voice again. "Nick," she said a little shakily, "please tell me you exaggerated that."

He shook his head. "You have to be very careful; it takes time to adjust." He tried to laugh, failed miserably. "Don't try to dust your breakables for a while."

"Right. Sure." Gingerly she put her hands in her pockets.

"If I were mortal," he told her seriously, "the fridge door would probably be bashed in." At her stricken look, he added, "Except that you wouldn't have done it that hard, because you're used to me being stronger."

"Actually, I never think about it much."

"Maybe not, but you're aware of it, and consequently you use more force with me than you would with, say, Schanke. It's unconscious--but now you have to learn to pay attention to it."

"I think I have to learn a lot of things."

"Yeah." There was silence for a moment, neither of them certain what to say. Finally Nick put an arm around her shoulders and steered her back into the living room, saying, "Obviously, trying to take your mind off this is impractical, so I think you'd better tell me exactly what happened to you."

Nat laughed shortly. "I have a feeling I'm going to see that famous temper of yours blow sky-high."

"It's already blown." His voice remained calm, but now she seemed to recognize the cold fury that had been in his eyes the entire time. "I have never, in almost eight hundred years, been angrier than I am tonight. But that doesn't do you any good. What _will_ do you good is to confront what happened, what was said, what you thought. And when you're finished..." He paused, remembering what he had felt when what he had become really sank in. "When you're finished, either you'll be ready to deal with this...or else _I'll_ be the one pulling _you_ away from the window come morning."


	2. Chapter 2

_Dammit, I just replaced that bulb_, Natalie thought irritably, flipping the unresponsive switch by her front door. Bone-weary after a marathon shift to rival any cop's, all she wanted right now was a soft bed and a peaceful remainder of the night to enjoy it.

_Skitch_. The little sound of a match nearly stopped her heart, and by its light she glimpsed the stranger who held it, standing in her living room where he did _not_ belong.

Just for a second, then he blew out the match while she turned to get out of the apartment. By now Nat's eyes had adjusted enough to see that the man was suddenly between the door and her reaching hand. She opened her mouth to call for help, but the sound died in her throat as the intruder caught her gaze and held it.

"No scream, Dr. Lambert," he said softly, matching her step for step as she backed away. "Not even a sound."

Gathering her strength and scrambling to recall the few details she knew about this, she forced herself to look away from the unblinking dark eyes, only to find herself pinned against the living room wall.

"Look at me," the stranger whispered, inches from her ear.

Focussing stubbornly on the toe of her left shoe, Nat shook her head. She couldn't outrun him; she had to outthink him, and if she let him establish eye contact again she wouldn't get a chance to think at all.

Fingers brushed her cheek; she pulled her head sharply away. "Are you afraid, Natalie? I may call you that, mayn't I?"

"I'd be pretty stupid if I weren't," she snapped. "I know what you are. What do you want?"

"What do you think?" he returned, taking hold of her chin and forcing her to face him. Nat squeezed her eyes shut, and he laughed, a surprisingly pleasant sound. "Look at me, Natalie," he whispered again, smoothing back a strand of hair that had escaped from her barrette. "There's no need to fear."

Without meaning to she opened her eyes, and instantly he locked them with his own. "That's better." Natalie flinched slightly when he reached behind her and took the large barrette from her hair, but she could neither look away nor move a step.

Belatedly she remembered Magda's cross, the little gold one the girl had given Nick after he saved her life. Every once in a while Nat tried to get him to take it back; for once she was glad he hadn't and reached for the chain inside her blouse.

No sooner did she have hold of it than a hand clamped over hers, jerking the chain away from her neck. His grip slid to her wrist, painfully tight. "Drop it." She held on, and the pressure on her wrist increased. "Drop it, Natalie." The cross fell to the carpet and he released her hand with a smile that under other circumstances would have been charming. "No more little tricks like that up your sleeve, I trust?"

"No."

"Good." He traced her cheek and the line of her jaw with a fingertip; Nat tried to pull away but there was nowhere to go. "Not that I would expect you to tell me if you had. A pretty face, a sharp mind, a stubborn will...Nicholas never could resist that particular combination."

"Not that it's any of your business," Nat shot back, too quickly, "but Nick and I are best friends, _period_."

"Really?" The intruder chuckled. "He must be losing his touch. Tell me, Natalie..." He leaned closer, inches from her face, and she had the uncomfortable sensation of falling despite the solid wall at her back. "What do you find most fascinating about him? His strength, his power? The fact that he has lived nearly eight hundred years and could go on living forever?"

"His humanity," Nat returned evenly. "In spite of all that, he's still a man, a good man, and he wants to live like one again. And I'm helping him do just that."

The strange vampire's surprise seemed genuine. "He's trying to cross back over? The fool! Why?"

"Because he doesn't want it any more, why else? Because he's had his fill of death and darkness. He wants to live again."

"And you are helping him." A smile spread slowly across her captor's face; Nat didn't like it at all. "Oh, dear doctor, this is all too perfect."

"What is?" Nat demanded, her temper getting the better of her efforts to keep cool and rational. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

"I want _you_, Natalie," he replied, not very helpfully. "You see, I owe Nicholas a debt that is long overdue. I came here tonight intending simply to kill you...but now I have a better idea."

Abruptly, unexpectedly, his kissed her. She tried to turn away but found her muscles unwilling to cooperate. She was falling again, vertigo spinning her well-reasoned arguments out of reach. _Get out of my head!_ she thought fiercely, trying to push him away.

Unperturbed, he stood back a moment, studying her with a hint of a smile. Then he leaned over again, murmuring in her ear, "You could live forever, Natalie."

"No!" Desperately she shoved at him again, succeeding only in pressing herself against the wall. He wouldn't budge.

"You can't tell me you've never thought about it," he went on. "Never wanted to experience it for yourself, if only so you can truly understand when Nicholas confides in you? And you want to understand, don't you?"

"I understand that it's made Nick miserable," she insisted, "and it made my little brother kill five people and then attack me so he could go after his wife. I want no part of it."

"Yet if Nicholas hadn't chosen it, you would never have known him at all," he pointed out. "He would be long dead, probably on the point of some Saracen's sword. He would never even have become the man you know, Natalie. One can learn a great deal in eight centuries, not all of it bad."

He was talking her in circles, dammit; somewhere there had to be a way out of that loop. Until she found it, though, what could she say that he couldn't turn against her?

Before she had a chance, he continued, "Will you stand there and tell me you've never felt that temptation, Natalie? Surely you have the strength of will your brother lacked. With all the time you have spent with Nicholas, all the things you have learned, you've never heard the siren call of immortality?"

"No."

"Never wanted to learn more, to know the things Nicholas cannot explain to you?"

"No." Nat cursed silently, hearing a sliver of doubt creep into her tone.

"Never looked at some pitiful corpse on your examining table and wished you never had to fear that fate?"

"No. Not at that cost."

"I don't believe you." He moved to kiss her again; she twisted out of the way, successfully this time. For all the good it did; he simply turned her face toward him again. "You answer too quickly, Natalie. Are you absolutely certain, certain to your soul, certain in the very face of death, that what I offer holds no fascination for you at all?" She started to answer, and he placed a finger on her lips. "Think carefully. You could have all the time in the world to find all the answers you wish--perhaps even find a way to work your miracle, bring Nicholas back to mortality and yourself as well." He kissed her once more, and she failed to pull away. "Or you could die tonight, and all those hopes die with you. Is that what you want?"

Her answer could barely be heard, even by his sharp ears. "No."

And in that moment she was lost.

* * *

"And the next thing I remember is your voice, telling me I had to wake up," Nat concluded quietly. "It was so strange, like swimming through tar to get to you. And you know the rest--better than me, I think. It's all pretty vague until I got my head together here, after you gave me..." She couldn't say it, and he wasn't about to press. "I had no idea... Nick, is that how it always goes? The mindgames, I mean?"

"Usually." He rubbed nervously at the stubble on his chin. "He had to make sure you'd fight your way back, make you want it, at least for a moment. When you're brought over, you don't just wake up a vampire. There's no guarantee you'll wake up at all; it takes a very strong person with a very strong will to live--and a very strong fear of death, which isn't quite the same. He had to push you over that edge." Grasping her hand, he added, "It probably won't help much, but I wish I'd been as hard to convince."

Nat shrugged. "The end result is the same."

Lacking an answer for that, Nick asked her instead, "Nat...would you know this guy if you saw him again?"

"Anywhere," she replied, her voice taking on a hard edge.

"Good. Because I know just where to start looking."

* * *

Before they even reached the door of the Raven, Nat was wincing and pressing her hands over her ears.

"I don't know how she can stand having it this loud all the time," Nick told her. "Listen, I'll keep talking; focus on that and you can tune the music out. It just takes a little practice; and we shouldn't be here too long."

Frowning a little in concentration, she took her hands away from her ears. "I hope not. What are we doing here, anyway? You don't think he'd just be hanging out waiting for us to find him?"

"No, but he's probably been here," Nick answered. "And even if he hasn't, Janette makes it her business to know everything about everyone. Of course, we still have to convince her to tell us; she can be a little funny about that, as you may have noticed."

Looking around doubtfully at the club's crowd, Nat shrugged. "We seem to be in your element. Lay on, MacDuff."

Nick was about to protest, but something in her manner worried him. She was too calm, too quiet; and without knowing what was happening beneath that surface, how could he help her? He owed her so much, and now when she needed his support...

"Natalie?" Janette's surprised query came from behind them. "Then who was he talking..." She trailed off as she got a closer look at the other woman. "Ah, now I see. I thought he meant he had killed you."

"Didn't he?" Nat returned.

"He _who_, Janette?" Nick asked impatiently. "And if you knew something, why didn't you tell me?"

"Do you honestly think I would want to be the bearer of those tidings, Nicolas? It isn't as if you wouldn't find out, and frankly I didn't want to be around when you did." She turned on her heel and led them to a corner table away from the center of activity.

When they were all seated, Janette continued, "It's Paul you're looking for. He was in here last night, boasting that he had paid a visit to 'Nicolas' mortal lady.' He said to tell you to consider the scales balanced."

"What scales?" Natalie asked.

Nick shifted uncomfortably, replying, "It's a long story. I'll explain later."

"You've been caught in the middle of a very old argument indeed," the dark-haired woman said. "And I suppose it makes a certain sort of sense that he brought you over instead of killing you, since no doubt you and Nick both think this is worse."

"And I suppose you think it's just peachy."

Janette shook her head. "I have never been your enemy, Natalie, and I'm certainly not going to start now. Like it or not, you are one of us, and you can count on me as a friend. Remember that if Paul tries to press his claim as your master."

Nick hardly needed to look at his friend to know she bristled at the term, and he didn't blame her. "What kind of master takes her by force and leaves her on the floor to fend for herself?" he demanded.

Janette's glass stopped in midair, the dizzying lights of the dance floor reflected in its dark red depths. "He did that?"

"He did that," Nick confirmed. "It was sheer luck that I reached her in time; he obviously meant for her to wake up alone."

"The fool!" Janette hissed. "Would he have her go mad just to spite you?"

"Apparently."

"He deliberately let me think he had killed her, then. He guessed I would alert you, or go to her myself if you couldn't be found." Recovering her detached air, Janette turned her attention back to the new convert, who was frowning intently at the other's glass. "Natalie? Is something wrong?"

Hand on her shoulder, Nick asked anxiously, "Nat? Nat, you're staring. You okay?"

"It smells like alcohol," the doctor answered, sounding faintly puzzled.

Janette smiled. "A little wine adds an interesting twist. Would you care to try it?"

"No," her guests said in hasty unison, Nat looking more than a little uncomfortable at the suggestion. Turning to Nick, she asked, "How come you never mentioned that? You can't get things down when I give them to you straight, but..." She trailed off, recalling that she was now in a similar position. "I should have thought of that." She hesitated. "Both of you, promise me...If I get out of control like Richard did..."

"We won't let that happen," Nick assured her.

"By whatever means are necessary," she finished flatly.

Janette nodded immediately, and Nick reluctantly followed suit. "Paul is an idiot," Janette declared. "He's gone much too far, and under the circumstances I doubt anyone would fault you for killing him."

Nat stared at her. "_What?_"

With a shrug, Janette went on, "I imagine that was Nick's first thought, but the right is yours."

"Janette--" Nick began, but he was interrupted when Nat pushed her chair back angrily.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," she fumed. "Don't you people think about anything else? Nick, I need some air. I'll wait for you in the car." Shoving her chair back under the table, she added to Janette, "Thank you for an enlightening discussion."

Ignoring the venomous sarcasm, the other woman replied, "This is your haven now too, Natalie, should you choose to take advantage of it."

"Don't bet on it."

Nick rose to follow as she stomped out, but a lace-gloved touch on his arm stopped him. "Let her go, Nicolas." She waved to someone across the room, nodding in Natalie's direction. "Fiona will keep an eye on her for a few minutes."

Rounding on her, he snapped, "Did you have to throw it in her face like that? She didn't want this, Janette."

"Then she wouldn't have come over."

"Don't play that game with me; I know it as well as you do." He sank heavily back into his seat. "But she wasn't supposed to learn it."

Brushing his cheek with the back of her hand, she told him softly, "Any mortal can be manipulated, Nicholas. The darkness is always there, and most dangerous when it is denied. You know that."

"Oh, yes," he agreed bitterly, "you and LaCroix taught that little lesson very well." Meeting her eyes, he added, "But it isn't enough, Janette; haven't _you_ learned yet? Maybe the light

can never satisfy us, as you said. But neither can the darkness, and I won't pretend any longer that it does."

For a long moment they said nothing; then Janette looked away, predictably shifting the subject. "But it's done now. Are you ready for the responsibility Paul abandoned? Or will you do her more harm than good?"

"What do you mean?"

"She hasn't killed," Janette said flatly.

"And she isn't going to," Nick returned. "How can you even think that, when you know she's been trying to bring me back over?"

"Look at her, Nicolas, when you leave here. What you have given her is not enough." She pushed her glass across the table to him, and he eyed it warily. "If she wants to live as you do, that's her affair. But remember this: you had centuries to build your strength before you began this madness, yet even you feel the lack. She has nothing but her anger and her strength of will, and when one runs out the other will fail her. Will you let that happen?"


	3. Chapter 3

It was a mild evening, and he emerged from the club to find Nat in the Caddy's passenger seat with the top pulled down. She watched everyone who went by without much real interest, her expression again disturbingly composed. _The calm before the storm_, he couldn't help thinking. _She's still in shock._ But what did he expect?

She gave him a crooked little smile as he got in the driver's seat. "Hi."

"Hi." He hoped his answering smile was reassuring. "I think maybe it was a little too soon to drag you here."

Picking at a loose thread on her sleeve, Nat said, "I'm sorry I blew my stack. I guess she was trying to be helpful, huh?"

"In her own uniquely Janette fashion," Nick confirmed. "Look, Nat, don't take this wrong, but...I don't think you should be left alone yet. You'd be safest staying at my place for while, just until you get adjusted and we make your place a little more secure."

"Okay. Can we swing by there so I can pack some clothes and things, and make sure Sydney has food and water?"

"That's where I'm headed, and then back home. You need some quiet."

"Now there's an appealing notion." She pulled off the thread she had been fidgeting with. "Nick, what did she mean by...his claim as my master?"

He didn't answer for a moment, the twitching of the little muscle in his jaw the only indication that he had heard the question. Finally he answered, "I wish she hadn't said that; she knows I wouldn't have stood for it in any case. But under ordinary circumstances, the master controls every step of the game, shapes the new vampire's values and habits in the process of teaching him or her to survive. Some take more advantage of that power than others, but it's universally accepted as the master's prerogative. It's all but impossible for a young vampire to defy his master, even if the master is abusing that power. You're just too dependent at the beginning."

Nat looked down at her hands, twined nervously in her lap. "So, if anyone fills that role in this case...I guess it's you."

"No." The word dropped like the blade of a guillotine. "I will _not_ be manipulated into that." He sighed. "Although we may have to make some show to that effect to get the others to leave you alone." The car slid next to the curb in front of Nat's apartment building, and Nick took hold of her hands. "But I know, and I hope you know, that I'm going to help you through this as your _friend_."

"I know." She almost smiled. "And I have some idea, I think, how lucky that is for me. What you said about masters who abuse their power--the voice of experience?"

"Yeah." He looked down for a second, then met her eyes again. "LaCroix delighted in controlling my life. _Nobody_ will do that to you."

* * *

"I knew I should have given you a key." Nat fingered the splintered doorframe, adding, "Now I know why you were talking about making my apartment more secure."

Shaking his head, Nick answered, "Actually, I kind of forgot I did that. I was thinking of your windows."

"Oh." She glanced around the apartment; Paul had left her in a corner sheltered from the windows, but mostly she'd be in trouble. "I see what you mean."

There was an awkward pause, then Nick said, "Come on, let's get your stuff packed."

Nat said little as she moved from closet to suitcase to dresser, absently scratching Sydney between his ears, answering her friend's attempts at conversation in two or three words.

Tossing her toothbrush and a small cosmetic bag on top of the clothing, she swung the lid down. One catch clicked shut, but the the other resisted. "This damn thing," she muttered, pressing down on the corner of the suitcase lid, which obligingly caved in beneath her hand. She jumped back as if burned, staring at the offending piece of luggage.

"Hey, take it easy," Nick told her, quickly opening the suitcase and popping the dent back from the inside, then closing it. "See, good as new."

"Glad one of us is."

"Nat--"

"No, no, I'm okay." She flashed a bright, patently artificial smile. "I'm fine."

Nick let it pass, wishing he knew what else to do. He could think of at least a dozen reassurances one gave to a doubtful, upset convert; too bad he didn't buy them himself. "All right," he said instead, picking up the suitcase. "Shall we?"

On the way back through the living room, Nat stopped abruptly. Nick followed her intent gaze to a glint of gold on the carpet, resisting the urge to stop her as she crossed and crouched by the necklace.

She hesitated before picking it up by the broken chain; then, with a determined set of her jaw, laid the cross in the palm of her hand. She held it for several seconds, then dropped it with a little cry of pain, pulling the injured hand close to her chest.

Nick was at her side in a flash, wrapping a supportive arm around her shoulders. "Let me see."

Slowly she opened her hand to reveal the angry red, blistered mark. "This is really happening," she said, a sob creeping into her voice. "I'm really--"

At last the dam had broken. "Go ahead and cry, Nat," Nick told her, holding her protectively. "It's about time."

After a few minutes the pent-up sobs were spent, and Nat pulled back from the hug. Shaking her head, she brushed her fingers over the burn in her palm. "Why?" she whispered.

"Because I did a very foolish thing a very long time ago," Nick replied. "And because you're the most important person in my world." Wrapping her in his arms again, he went on, "Do you have any idea how much I value your unfailing faith in me, in my humanity? I've been ready to give up so many times, and you're always there to remind me that what matters is not what I am but what I do, and what I _want_ to be." He clamped down firmly on his own tears; he needed to anchor her right now. "You have to hang on to that faith, Nat, now more than ever. I still need it, and so do you. But we'll make it -- _you_ made me believe that."

Nat laughed shortly. "I wouldn't let you give up, so now you're getting even, huh?"

"Now _that_ sounds like the Natalie Lambert I know."

"Good. Then you won't be surprised when I start bombarding you with questions."

Holding up his hands in mock surrender, Nick said, "Okay, I give up. But can we go to my place and sit on the furniture?"

"On the way, then."

"Done." He gave her a hand up and picked up her suitcase while she retrieved her purse from where it had fallen--had that been just the previous night?

Examining the doorframe more closely, they discovered that only the heavy deadbolt had damaged it; the regular lock had merely bent, and still had something to slide into when straightened.

"My landlord's gonna _love_ this," she chuckled, locking the door. "At least it isn't noticeable from the outside."

"Don't worry, I'll pay for it."

"Great. How about explaining it?"

He shrugged, putting on his best wide-eyed-innocent face, and Nat cracked up.

"You missed your calling," she informed him. "You should have been a pool hustler."

"Who says I haven't been?"

"Point taken. Have you?"

"Maybe."

That earned a sigh of semi-serious exasperation, and as they got into the car she said, "That's the last sidestep I'll let slide tonight, Nick."

"That's the last one you're going to get," he answered, mischievous grin fading. "You have a right to know why this mess has happened."

* * *

"LaCroix can go burn on the hearth, or in Hell for all I care!" Paul stomped into the keep, flinging his sodden cloak to the floor at the feet of a startled Janette. "And what are you staring at, wench?"

Pulling herself up arrow-straight, she retorted icily, "Have a care, Paul. This is still my house."

To her consternation, the dark-haired man swept her a low, mocking bow and burst out laughing. "Your pardon, _my lady_, but it seems to me LaCroix owns this château and everything in it, including the two of you!"

"And what makes you so different?" Nicholas demanded, picking up the other's cloak and hurling it back at him. "Do you think that by throwing a child's tantrums you can be free of him? Bad-tempered children earn only punishment, Paul."

"Oh, this is a rare joke!" the newest member of the strange household snarled. "So much the child am I that our _master_ will not deign to threaten me himself, but entrusts that task to his fallen knight, a favored son if ever there was one!" Before Nicholas could respond, he continued, "Of course, it is an improvement over being threatened by his whore."

Between one heartbeat and the next Janette closed the distance between herself and the younger vampire. "What did you call me?" she whispered dangerously.

"I have lost any fear of you, _whore_," Paul shot back. "You have already done me all the harm in your power, by luring me into this. For all his promises and all your pride, you have only freedom enough to serve his purposes. Tell me, do you keep a tally of the fools you have bedded before LaCroix brought them over or sent them to Hell?" He turned away from her contemptuously, crossing the few steps to Nicholas. "Though one is much the same as the other, eh, _brother_?"

He was answered by a savage cuff that sent him crashing to the floor. "Enough!" the blond man roared. More calmly he added, "Just do as he asks, Paul, or we'll all regret it."

Shocked out of the better portion of his rage, Paul rose slowly to his feet. "You fear no one else in Creation, Nicholas. Why are you so cowed by _him_?"

"We are not all equals here, Paul," the elder vampire replied evenly. "Take that as you will, but _never_ forget it."

"Perhaps he needs reminding."

Paul took a step backward, eyes wide, and Nicholas could not suppress a slight shudder at the deceptively soft voice over his shoulder. LaCroix was smiling as he approached his newest

"child," a sure sign that all was not well.

"Where is the girl, Paul?" the master asked almost casually. "Where is your golden angel?"

With a visible effort Paul met the unblinking ice-blue gaze. "Safe at home, where she will remain."

"Foolish child," LaCroix whispered, still smiling. "Has Nicholas been telling you how dangerous it is to defy me? You should heed his advice; he has seen how very short immortality can be." Janette shrank a little at this, and LaCroix gave her a slight nod before continuing, "You need a lesson, Paul. Learn it well." Then he turned back toward the door, calling, "Aurélie! Come in, he's waiting for you."

"Demon!" Paul hissed.

"As are we all," LaCroix agreed equably as a girl of about fifteen stepped shyly into the room, a fragile creature of spun gold and silk.

Little wonder Paul had lost his heart, had refused to bring her here to be consumed by their dark world. She seemed truly an angel; enormous blue eyes, clouded a little by LaCroix's hold on her, shone with the utter innocence their master so loved to destroy. "Why did you not meet me in the garden?" she asked, running to Paul. "I almost gave up waiting, but then your friend..."

"He is no friend of mine, Aurélie," he interrupted, placing himself between her and LaCroix. "Come, this is no place for you. I must see you safely home."

"He said you killed my lady," the girl told him fearfully. "Father Ambrose told us it was a demon had taken her, a monster in the guise of a man. Sure you are not such a one, monsieur?"

Glaring at LaCroix, he answered, "You mustn't listen to him, little one. He knows only lies."

"Is this a lie?" the master vampire asked, displaying his fangs and predatory yellow eyes. "And Paul is just the same."

Aurélie shrieked, looking from Paul around to the three strangers and back again. Slowly she backed away from the dark man, apparently deciding that Janette was the safest quarter. "My lady, please..."

"I cannot protect you," the woman told her flatly. "Perhaps Nicolas will."

Following Janette's nod, Aurélie ran desperately to the former knight. "Monsieur? Help me, save me, please!"

Nicholas hesitated, then took her little hands. "If I can," he told her, cupping one cheek in his hand and holding her eyes, trying to calm the panic he saw there, panic edging on madness. "Hush, now." She quieted, and he looked over at the others. "There is only one escape for her now, Paul," he said, forcing the sorrow he felt out of his voice. "She will only go mad if she lives."

"You callous bastard!" Paul cried. "You're no better than he is!"

Aurélie jumped at the angry voice, and Nicholas struggled to keep her quiet. "What would you have me do?" he demanded tightly. "It's too late, Paul. She has seen too much. Your innocent angel is already gone." With this last he shot a searing glance in LaCroix's direction, the most he ever dared. "I warned you that you would have no choice; she need not have gone through this."

Paul glowered from LaCroix to Nicholas and back again. "Release her," he insisted. "Aurélie, sweetling, come here."

Reluctantly Nicholas complied, but the girl cowered against him, staring wild-eyed at Paul. "Please, monsieur, don't let him near me!"

Instinctively Nicholas put comforting arms around the terrified girl, and Paul swept across the room and yanked her away. "_Cochon_, I said let her go!"

Utterly panicked, she screamed and thrashed as he led her to the door, paying no heed to his attempts to calm her. "No! Get away! You're hurting me!" Wriggling free, she fled again to Nicholas.

Furious, Paul started across the room to them, but LaCroix intercepted him. "I have had enough of this game," he declared. Without taking his eyes off the dark man, he ordered, "Nicholas, deal with her. And _I_ will deal with _him_."

Aurélie clung tightly to him, and the panicked rush of her heart drowned out the protests of his own. No reason remained in the great blue eyes pleading up at him; whatever notions he had briefly entertained of finding some other solution were gone now. "Quiet, little one," he murmured, holding her gaze once more. "You will never hurt again."

Some hours later a dark figure slipped through the early-morning shadows to a tiny, windowless tower room. As silently as possible Nicholas turned the pilfered key in the lock and pulled the door shut behind him.

"You did it, didn't you?" Paul's voice was tired, drained of anger, but indelible hatred ran beneath the surface. "She ran straight to you to die."

He could not deny the accusation. "There was no other way," he replied, the excuse hollow and unconvincing to his own ears. "You have to get away, Paul, now. He means to destroy you."

A short, harsh laugh answered him. "Do you think this will balance the scales? Oh, no, my friend, this debt will be paid."

Listening apprehensively for a step on the stairs, Nicholas said, "If you want to live to have your revenge, for pity's sake fly as far and as fast as you possibly can before the sun rises--or you will be watching it from the stocks in the courtyard!"

"Very well, enjoy your gesture," Paul told him icily. "But let me offer you a piece of advice in return." In a quiet, lethal voice, he went on, "Pray that you never hold any mortal dear, Nicholas. Because you may be certain I will be there."


	4. Chapter 4

"So," Nick asked after a moment, "do you hate me yet?"

"Will you stop?" He hadn't been able to face her throughout the shameful tale, afraid of her reaction; now he looked over at her in surprise. "Nick, in all the time I've known what you are, known that you have killed, have I ever condemned you for it?"

"No."

"No. Because what matters to me is who you are _now_. Did you really think telling me details would change that?" She shook her head. "You really thought I would blame you for what happened to me."

"I do."

"You're impossible." At his questioning look, she amended, "No, I don't mean that. And don't you start thinking it either."

"I'll try," Nick conceded. "Now, as long as I promised not to sidestep, what else can I embarrass myself with?"

Frowning slightly, Nat asked, "What about Janette? I mean, you've never really said...what is she to you?"

A shadow passed over his face, and she was almost sorry she had asked. "Now there's a loaded question. Once...LaCroix's pawn, the bait for his traps. Now...I don't know." He shook his head. "For a long time I blamed her for drawing me into this, but she was as much his victim as I was. He sold her on all the same lies; the sad part is that she still believes them. Or if she doesn't, she's afraid to admit it."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too." Nick seemed lost in thought for a moment, then his gaze focussed on the window. "Sun's coming up."

Overriding Nat's objections to putting him out, Nick insisted she take the bedroom and let him sleep on the couch. "You'd better call in sick. What could keep you out for a few days, without having to go to the hospital or anything?"

"Strep'll work," she answered. "I'd be pretty miserable at least until tomorrow, especially if I had a high fever. Which would also give you an excuse to stay home and take care of me, if that's what you have in mind."

With a nod, Nick chuckled, "Perfect. Schanke'll never let me hear the end of it, though; I finally use a sick day because somebody else is sick. He gives me a hard time about you as it is, you know."

"Oh, really?" Nat stood by the window, watching the gradually-lightening sky. "And just what has he been--"

Nick rushed to her assistance as she leaned against the windowframe, wincing. "You okay?"

"No, I'm not okay!" she snapped. "You killed the wrong girl six hundred years ago, so this wacko takes it out on me. I don't know if I'm madder because of me or because he knew damn well it would hurt you; but I'm mad as hell. And I'm tired...and I'm hungry. And I don't even want to think about that."

"Neither do I," Nick responded gently, "but we have to." He put the remote control for the blinds in her hand and headed for the kitchen, returning a moment later with two very civilized glasses.

She took hers wordlessly, glaring at it as if it were responsible for the whole disastrous situation, then returned her attention to the growing daylight.

"Penny for 'em?" he asked, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Grief stages," Nat replied. "It's weird when you recognize things in yourself that you got really tired of taking notes on. It just occurred to me; mourning my mortality, I suppose?" She swirled the dark liquid in the glass. "Shock, denial, anger..." Finally, steeling herself, she raised the glass and took a few swallows, then glowered at it again. "I don't think I want to get to resignation, Nick."

* * *

He left the key in the middle of the floor in the tower room. Let LaCroix puzzle out for himself how it got there; he would find out anyway.

"Nicolas." The whisper from the shadows startled him slightly as he descended the stairs; but the peculiar French sound of it--"Ni-co-_la_"--was Janette's. "You're a sentimental fool," she chided him. "He could just as easily decide to destroy you."

"Let him."

Her eyes widened. "You don't mean that!"

"No, probably not. I'm too much the coward."

"You, a coward?" She drew closer to him. "My Nicolas, my brave Crusader?"

Catching the hand running up his chest, he replied sharply, "Don't call me that. That ended the night I met you, and you know it."

She laughed softly, back in her throat. "But we can be whatever we wish!"

"No. Only what he wishes."

She pulled away coldly, a storm brewing in her eyes. "Very well, Nicolas. Enjoy your brooding; you will be doing it alone."

Nicholas watched her stride away down the corridor. Part of him wanted to call her back, pretend to laugh with her at the harsh things she denied with such apparent ease. Another part wanted to chase after her, shatter her infuriating arrogance, remind her that she was just as vulnerable to desire.

He did neither, turning away instead to return to his own chamber and await LaCroix's caprices. At this moment he did not care enough even to wonder what punishment the master vampire would choose.

* * *

Nick rose from the depths of dreaming to find himself on the couch; it took him several seconds to remember what he was doing there. A glance at the clock on the mantel told him it was three o'clock. Much too early for him to be getting up; but he was wide awake now.

Soundlessly he padded up the stairs to check on Natalie. He had warned her that a vampire's dreams were as vivid as his sharpened senses; he hoped that hers were affording her some escape from the nightmare of reality, and not tormenting her further. A little smile quirked at the corners of his mouth at his friend's sleeping face, innocent for now of anger or sarcasm or painful knowledge. "One of a kind" he had called her more than once, only half-teasing. Her questing mind and generous heart had led her to help shoulder his dark burden without a second thought.

She knew how to draw out secrets he had never intended to reveal, and each time he was certain he'd lose her faith in him forever. But for whatever unfathomable reason, she continued to care for him, to trust him, offering her seemingly boundless strength to support him in his search for something that might well be impossible.

And this was her reward. There was no denying that _he_ deserved such a blow, but why her? Where was the justice in punishing Nat for giving of herself, just because she chose the

wrong person to receive that gift? And no matter how vehemently she denied it, the blame rested squarely on himself. He should never have allowed her to trust him, when he knew full well he didn't deserve it. If he had made more than a token effort to frighten her off when they had first met, her life could still have been safely normal; but now he had to admit he had hoped all along she wouldn't run away, this puzzling woman who had never for a moment feared him. He had betrayed her, as surely as if he'd attacked her himself. His desperate need for human contact, his longing for the daylight, had succeeded only in dragging Nat into the darkness he could not escape. The bargain had been struck, and like some latter-day Midas he destroyed everything he touched. His dearest friend's life, for instance.

Back on the main level he pointed the remote control at one of the windows, admitting a broad shaft of lethal light. Not long ago Nat had stood in that spot, fear for him adding force to the inadequate mortal strength she pitted against his halfhearted attempts at self-destruction. He should have gone through with it; at least then Paul would have left her alone. Instead he had

let her draw him back to his precarious place among the living, remind him how he longed to feel the sunshine that had gilded her hair and lent its luster to her angry face. A simple thing, that unique glow on human skin; yet he had clung to the image, hoarded it--it had been so long since he had seen such a wonder. Now he strove to etch it even more indelibly in his mind, acutely aware that the sun might never fall on her face again, that it was death to her as certainly as to himself. As certainly as it had been to Richard, in this very same spot.

And it was for that reason he could not even consider that escape, though he felt as lost and hopeless now as he had after Erica's suicide. Maybe more so. But through that crisis and others, Natalie had been there for him; he could not repay her fierce loyalty by abandoning her.

* * *

Well after dark, and they had seen no sign of LaCroix. He had left the château, presumably to hunt, before either of them was up and about, and now they sat in silence in the great empty dining hall, occasionally facing each other across a corner of the disused high table.

It was Janette who broke the silence, her voice uncharacteristically subdued. "Why did you let him go, Nicolas?"

"I had to. I owed him that much for friendship, even if I hadn't taken the girl." He shook his head. "Why must he forever set us against each other, Janette? Why can he abide no loyalty unless it is to him?"

"Always questions with you," she chided, her brittle smile returning as she reached to ruffle his hair. "Things are as they are. Isn't it better to live with what we cannot change?"

He turned away. "I'm not so sure."

"Nicolas." He looked up at the purring change in her tone, and she settled herself on the arm of his chair. "At least he has not set you and me against each other, _n'est-ce pas_?"

"From the moment we met," he corrected. "He made sure I could never trust your motives; they always seem to be his, don't they?"

"Do you hate me for that?" she asked; the notion did not seem to cause her much concern.

"Sometimes."

She kissed the top of his head as if he were a child, then slid off the arm of the chair into his lap. "But right now?"

In spite of himself, he smiled at this. "No."

"That is all that matters, Nicolas," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him. "For right now is when we must live."


	5. Chapter 5

The sound of his alarm clock snapped him out of his reverie, followed immediately by a piercing shriek. Without a second thought he launched himself through the air to the loft, silently cursing himself for forgetting the thing was set.

"Sh, take it easy, Nat," he said as she shrank away from his sudden approach. "It's just me."

"Where'd he go?" she demanded, her voice shrill with panic.

"He was never here, Nat," Nick assured her. "It was just a dream. You're safe."

She relaxed then, reorienting herself to waking reality. "Sorry," she muttered, shaking her head. "I feel really stupid."

"There's nothing to apologize for," he replied. "It might have been a little easier if I had remembered to turn the alarm off." He nodded toward the headboard shelf and laughed, finally noticing the flattened remains of the clock. "Whoops."

"Did I do that?" she asked sheepishly. Turning back to him, she added, "Wait a minute. Did you fly up here?"

"Yes to both," he answered. "I don't suppose the first will buy me a reprieve from being lectured about the second?"

She frowned, "Nick, you know that whenever you do things like that..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "No, you're right. I don't have a lot of room to talk this time, do I?"

"Sure you do," he said, squeezing her hand and standing to head downstairs in a more orthodox manner. "You followed a human reflex. Unfortunately, you can't always do that now."

"I know."

Nick nodded acknowledgement, then retreated downstairs to afford her some privacy to dress. Glancing again at what was left of the alarm clock, Natalie muttered, "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

In less than two days everything had spun out of control; the slightest action blew up in her face. She should have been able to turn off an alarm clock without acting like a hysterical child and demolishing the thing. She should have dealt with Janette's misguided advice without making a scene that had probably raised every vampire eyebrow in Toronto.

She should have found a way to escape from Paul.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she repeated, folding the pilfered scrubs she used for pajamas and returning them to her suitcase. "Stupid, stupid."

It occurred to her that Nick most likely could hear her; maybe she should cool it with the "stupid" motif. Wrinkling her nose at the mirror, she commented, "Too bad the reflection thing is bunk. I don't think I want one today." On the way down the stairs she added, "Oh, well. I'm out 'sick;' might as well be a slob, huh?"

"If you say so." Nick had always thought she seemed far more at home in her "college kid clothes" than in the professional attire she wore most of the time. Right now, though, she looked very small and lost in a gigantic Bluejays T-shirt, her face overwhelmed by a cloud of undisciplined curls. "Mind if I state the obvious, Nat? I don't think you're in a very good mood."

Natalie crossed her arms, and the observation was rewarded with something resembling a laugh. "Brilliant conclusion, Detective. Need any help on your next big case?"

"Yeah, actually." He gave her a cockeyed grin, and Nat wondered fleetingly just how long he'd had that little nervous habit of brushing his hand beneath his nose. "I was thinking of going grocery shopping. What do you want to throw in the blender this time?"

* * *

"You haven't changed, not really." The low voice over her shoulder caught Janette by surprise, not the sort of surprise she cared for. "You're still a whore, even with LaCroix gone."

Furiously she whirled on him. "You're not welcome here, Paul," she informed him in her most frigid tone. "And you're a fool if you think anyone will support what you've done."

"Oh, really? Since when do any of us have a problem with rightful revenge?"

"Why don't you ask Natalie?" Janette shot back. "Who you choose to kill or to bring over is your concern, but you should take more care how you go about it. She could have gone mad,

Paul, called attention to us, endangered us all."

Paul laughed harshly. "Is that what this is about? Or is it just that you're on Nicolas' side?"

Favoring him with an icy smile, Janette replied, "Maybe it's just that I like Natalie, and I don't like you. I don't need any more excuse than that. This is my club, and I don't want you near it. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly, my lady."

"Good. Oh, and one more thing," she added as he turned to go. "If you're wise, you won't compound your error."

"Meaning?"

"Leave Natalie be, Paul. You're already beyond your 'rightful revenge,' and Nicolas is not the only one who will oppose you."

Paul nodded politely. "I'll take your advice into consideration...but then, maybe I like Natalie too." Before she could respond, he flashed her an ironic smile. "But I'm not welcome here, isn't that what you said? Goodbye, Janette."

* * *

"Dammit!" There were three eggs left in the carton; two had made it into the blender and the rest were shattered and scrambled on the floor, the counter, and Nat's hands. And only one of her two successes had been complete; the other had necessitated five minutes of picking eggshells out of the goop.

"Maybe that's enough eggs," Nick suggested.

"I want three," she replied stubbornly. Taking a deep breath, she carefully picked up another egg from the carton, breaking it into the blender and throwing away the shells without mishap. That operation finished, she realized she was holding her breath and let it out with a small whoosh.

"Brava."

Nat shrugged, washing remnants of egg from her hands. "Getting there, I guess. I think it's getting a little easier to control." Raking her hair back from her face, she turned to her less-fragile ingredients.

"Nicolas!" The sharp whisper startled both of them, sending Natalie nearly jumping out of her skin.

Catching sight of the slim shadow hovering outside one of the windows, Nick snatched up the remote control unit to admit her. "You know, I gave you the alarm code for a reason."

"Yes, to slow me down," Janette replied, unruffled. "I have news for you both...what _are_ you doing?"

"Don't start with me, Janette," Natalie sighed. "I'm not in the mood." The elder's habitually polished movie-star glamor made her feel that much scruffier, straining her patience with the familiar we-are-what-we-are attitude.

"But you're not seriously going to try and..." She trailed off at a glare from Natalie, contenting herself with a shiver of distaste. "Whatever."

"So what's this big news?" Nick put in.

"Paul was at the club tonight, making a nuisance of himself and implying that he isn't finished with Natalie."

Nat laughed shortly. "I don't see what else he could do."

"Take you away from Nick, for one thing," Janette replied, "and put you at risk of losing control, which we have agreed he intended from the beginning."

"I won't go."

"Do you think you would have much choice? Paul is old, experienced, and more than a little mad; and if he wants he _can_ force you to follow him. He will control you as LaCroix controlled us."

"Not if I can help it." Nick's voice had taken on its deadliest quiet tone.

"We'll have to hope you can, Nicholas. Adopting another's convert is all well and good, but if he means to be her master in fact as well as--"

"She's her own master," Nick snapped.

"Very well, have it your way. But I think even Natalie knows that's just a matter of words. Though why you can't simply--"

"Because I don't want to be LaCroix, Janette! Why the hell do you think?"

"You had no such problem with Erica."

"And look what happened to her!"

"She made that choice, Nicholas, and she did so long after she was quite independent. Which Natalie will be, just as soon as she gains the strength and security to control her power."

"Oh, yeah. Like you did, Miss 'He's-very-disappointed'?"

Janette drew herself up, an indignant queen, and Nat would have sworn the temperature in the room dropped at least five degrees. "That's a cheap shot. And you are not LaCroix."

"Time _out_!" Natalie stepped between them. "In case you two have forgotten, this is _my_ fate we're discussing here. I don't want to be a pain about it, but do you think you could play insult tag _after_ we figure out what we're going to do about Paul?"

"Keep him away from you," Nick responded promptly.

"Sounds like a good start. How?"

Janette frowned. "I made it very clear that he's not welcome in the club, but we'll see how well he respects that."

"What we need to do is run him out of town," Nick said.

"Or destroy him. He's done enough to warrant it, to both of you. I doubt anyone would question your right."

"No." The new vampire shook her head firmly. "Don't you see, if we do that then somebody somewhere will decide they have to avenge _him_. Retaliation just keeps escalating, and I won't play that game. The cycle stops here."

"It's the way of our kind," Janette said.

"I don't want to go that way; you know that."

"Mortals turn the other cheek," the elder declared contemptuously. "For one of us it will only be seen as a weakness."

"Has it occurred to you that I don't intend to be 'one of us'?" Nat returned.

"You can't deny what you are, Natalie."

"Watch me."

The two women exchanged a long, measuring look, then Janette shrugged. "Have it your way; if you're bent on making yourself miserable, I can't stop you. And I'm sure you don't want my advice, but I'm going to give it anyway, in honest friendship: You can't be human. Paul has taken that away from you forever, and you should make him pay for that. But he has also give you things in return, and not the least of them is the fact that we look after our own." She cast a sideways glance at Nick. "Even those who try to turn their backs on us."

"What about Paul?"

"He put us all at risk by abandoning you. He has forfeited our support."

Natalie laughed shortly. "Vampire ethics."

Unperturbed, Janette replied, "Not such a contradiction in terms as you think. And you may find it useful to understand those ethics before you condemn them."


	6. Chapter 6

Janette started at the scratch of the opening door. "Nicolas, he's back!" she hissed. "What will you do?"

"Nothing." The former Crusader did not take his eyes from the fire, but he was no less aware of her agitation for his refusal to look at her.

"We cannot say the same for him. What if he decides to put you out in the sun in Paul's place?"

"Then I will try to escape," Nicholas replied flatly. "Or I will die. It's long past time, wouldn't you say?"

"No!" She placed herself in his line of sight, and reluctantly he met her eyes. "Don't keep antagonizing him, Nicolas. If he destroyed you, I--" She stopped short, looking over his shoulder, and her concern vanished behind her customary veil of ice.

"Are you ready to explain yourself, Nicholas?" LaCroix almost never raised his voice; it was never necessary.

"There is nothing to explain," the younger vampire replied, gaze fixed once more on the fire. "You have always told me that we must watch out for each other. Are you exempt from your own laws as well as those of mortals?"

"Are you judging me?" LaCroix returned. "You know better than that."

"I am in no position to judge anyone, am I?"

Janette resisted to instinct to back away at the smile that crept across the master vampire's face. "Oh, I see. You're feeling pangs of conscience." He circled deliberately around the chair to stand in front of Nicholas. "Is that why you freed Paul? Are you trying to atone?" He hauled Nicholas up by the front of his shirt, forcing the other man to face him. "When will you learn that you are no longer a knight of the Cross? You are above those lies, Nicholas."

"Who are you to speak of lies?"

"Do you need to ask?"

"Yes. But you will never answer."

LaCroix shoved him back into the chair. "I am losing patience, Nicholas. Must you constantly be reminded of your manners?"

With a bitter laugh, Nicholas replied, "I'd rather not. Isn't it enough to be what you have made me without being forced to examine it?"

Shaking his head with exaggerated mock sorrow, LaCroix asked, "What are we going to do with you? What do you suggest, Janette?"

"What?"

The master favored her with a chilly smile. "Surely you can think of an appropriate punishment for our wayward friend here."

"I? But..."

"Choose quickly," he warned, "or I will. And I suspect my choice will be more...creative."

Looking uneasily from one to the other, she began, "LaCroix..."

"Choose!"

* * *

"I don't think we need to get into that," Nick interrupted, placing the blender pitcher of Natalie's concoction in the refrigerator.

Janette frowned at him. "She is not a child. Give her the knowledge to make her own choices."

"It's getting close to dawn," Nick sidestepped. "You should head home; thanks for the warning about Paul."

"If you insist, Nicolas." She made a point of striding toward the window to make her exit.

"Janette, wait." Her head snapped around, his apologetic tone not softening her expression. "I'm sorry. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but..." He trailed off, started again. "Look, I should go to work tonight if we're going to avoid a lot of questions, but I can't leave Nat alone. Will you stay with her?"

She nodded curtly. "Of course."

"Janette?" Natalie spoke up, and the elder turned to her. "Thanks."

Nodding again, Janette gave her a slight smile and left by the door.

* * *

"Hey, Knight, you in there?" Schanke's voice on the intercom jerked Nick to wakefulness. "I come bearing chicken soup."

"Come on in, Schank; but keep it down, will you? Nat's trying to sleep."

"Sorry."

Moments later, Schanke emerged from the freight elevator clutching a large Tupperware container. "How's she feeling?"

"She's been better," Nick replied noncommittally.

Schanke nodded. "That's a given. Jenny's had strep a couple times; nasty stuff. She's taking her antibiotics on time and everything, right?"

"She _is_ a doctor, Schank."

"Right. Well, I'll put this in the fridge, and when she's up you can tell her--"

"Hi, Schanke."

The visitor whirled around at the quiet voice just behind him, and Natalie jumped in response. "Jeez, Natalie, are you related to him or something?"

She flicked a glance at Nick before answering, "Sorry. What's in the bucket?"

"'Sokay." Schanke shrugged. "I think I'm just getting deaf in my old age." He held up the container of soup. "Myra's a chicken-soup genius, so when I told her the unofficial third partner of the Team Supreme was sick..."

"Thanks." She gave him a wan smile and accepted the container, placing it immediately in the fridge. "That's really thoughtful."

"Looks like you're feeling a little better." Natalie answered him with a shrug, arms crossed across her chest. "You know, you push yourself too hard. You might as well be a cop, as much time as you put in contributing to the brainwork."

"I guess I'm not satisfied with turning in my autopsy report and forgetting it. I think there's more to my job than that."

Schanke frowned slightly, noting her careless appearance and uncharacteristic nervousness. "And we appreciate it, no argument there. But maybe you should slow down a little."

"Thanks for the concern, Don, really; but I'll be fine." She flashed another crooked smile and headed into the living room area, arms still wrapped tightly across herself.

The others followed her, Schanke throwing a questioning look at his partner. "Natalie," he asked uncertainly, "are you sure this is about being sick, or did something else happen?"

She looked sharply at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're not acting like yourself; and please let me know if this is way off base, but what you _are_ acting like is every assault victim I've ever met."

Nick stepped forward. "Schanke--"

"You're crazy," Nat said at the same time, forcing a laugh.

"That's good to hear," Schanke responded, his tone making it clear he wasn't convinced. "Because I think you're too tough and too smart to do the victim-blames-herself syndrome and keep something like that to yourself."

"Drop it, Schank," Nick warned, his heart twisting at the look Natalie sent in his direction.

"Why?"

"It's not that simple," Nat told him, drawing her knees up and pulling back into the corner of the couch.

Schanke stood beside her, saying reasonably, "Trying to disappear won't make it go away, Natalie. But you got nothing to be ashamed of, and even though it's tough to go in and report--"

"I can't, Schanke!" she snapped, burying her face against her knees. "Just leave me alone, okay? You don't know what you're talking about!"

Nick had stood back, uneasily watching the exchange, but now he started forward. "Schanke, get away from her."

"What is _with_ you guys? It won't help to--"

"I said _leave me alone_!" The blow caught Schanke squarely in the stomach as Natalie whirled on him, sending him crashing into the side of the stairs.

Nick crossed the room instantly and caught her before she was quite on her feet, pinning her arms to her sides.

"Let me go!"

"Not until you calm down," he told her firmly, pulling her down to sit on the floor. "Richard, Nat! Remember what happened to Richard." Abruptly she stopped struggling, and he took her face in both hands, meeting her changed eyes with sorrow but no surprise. "Keep it down, Nat."

"Oh, my God," she whispered as he hugged her tightly, giving her a chance to regain her human appearance.

"Schanke?" He looked over at his partner, who was still out of breath and staring at them in stunned silence. "You okay?"

The other man nodded, standing up slowly. "What the hell is going on, Nick?" he demanded in a hushed voice. "Her face--I thought I saw--"

"You did." Gently he pulled Natalie to her feet, her face still hidden against him. "Wait here a couple minutes, and I'll explain."

Schanke was about to say something else, but the anguish in the coroner's now-normal eyes as she turned to him stopped him short. "Schanke, I..."

"Later, Nat," Nick told her, leading her to the loft stairs. "It's only one in the afternoon; you should be asleep."

"What are you going to tell him?" she asked as they reached the bedroom.

"What I should have told him months ago," he replied. "The truth. Now get some rest, and let me worry about it."

* * *

To Nick's surprise, Schanke said nothing throughout the bizarre recitation, through the revelations of Nick's own age, the true fate of Natalie's brother Richard, and what had happened to Natalie herself. Even Nick's vague admission that he had once killed to sustain himself elicited only a fleeting look of shock before his partner returned to the poker face Nick recognized from more than a few midnight interrogations.

At length the tale was told, and after a pause Schanke took a deep breath. "That's a hell of a lot to digest all at once," he said finally.

"Yeah."

"But...it explains a lot."

"Yeah."

Schanke glanced up the stairs, now beginning to look distinctly uncomfortable. "And it's all true, isn't it? And she could have...killed me."

"Yeah."

"Man, oh, man, oh, man." Schanke leaned against the back of the couch. "When Norma was going on about how you weren't in the computer, and some of the times on duty..." He shook his head. "Still, it's tough to swallow, even after seeing... I mean, that kinky friend of yours, that Janet person with the nightclub and the MTV girl wardrobe--"

Nick almost laughed as he watched the wheels turning in his partner's head. "Her you'd believe, right?" At Schanke's hesitant nod, Nick went on, "I probably shouldn't tell you this; try not to let on that you know if and when you see her again, or I'll never hear the end of it. When I walked into this trap Janette was the bait. It wasn't really her _fault_, but...well, it's complicated." He shrugged. "Anyway, her club is a refuge and contact center for us. She got so upset when you were snooping in her cellar because you nearly stumbled across one of her houseguests."

Schanke caught himself putting a nervous hand to his throat. "If I had, would she have--?"

After considering a moment, his partner replied, "She says she would have, but I have my doubts. Six months ago, yes, without a second thought. But six months ago she would never have harbored you at all."

"Why the change?"

"I don't know. I like to think it's her real personality coming out now that she isn't always looking over her shoulder for LaCroix." He tossed Schanke a wry smile. "Holly, on the other hand, would probably have killed you before you could blink. She's pretty paranoid."

"And she was behind that door."

"Mm-hmm."

"I've walked into a mell of a hess," Schanke sighed. "So...what's the plan?"

Nick blinked. "What?"

"How do we get the sonovabitch who did this to Natalie?"

"_We_ nothing, Schank," Nick told him firmly. "Haven't you been paying attention? You are not getting involved in this."

"I would venture to say that I'm already involved."

"Well, it's not going any further. I told you so you'd know why you need to stay out of it!"

"Uh-uh, partner," Schanke insisted. "No way am I going to sit back and pretend none of this happened. There has to be something I can do."

"No. Not without making you a target too, and that's the last thing I want."

That stopped Schanke short. "You're blaming yourself for what happened to Natalie, aren't you?"

Nick looked away from him. "Of course. It's my fault for involving her in my problems."

"Seems to me she knew what she was getting into," Schanke ventured.

"Not really. I mean, I told her the basic facts, but I didn't really make her understand the risk to her." He laughed shortly. "I thought I could protect her, but the only way to do that would have been never to let her into my life in the first place."

Lacking an answer for that, Schanke asked instead, "So what happens now?"

"Now you go back on duty and _stay out of this_, Schanke," his partner told him. "I got careless and Nat paid for it. I won't allow that to happen again. I'm taking enough of a risk

telling you as much as I have; I hope you understand how dangerous it is for you to know so much. Some of the others would say you know too much to live."

Schanke absorbed this, looking slightly ill. "Nick...you said you made Richard's wife forget all that stuff. You could have done that today, couldn't you? To me?"

Nick nodded soberly. "I could have."

"But you didn't."

"You're my partner, Schank. You have to know you can trust me, and so do I."

"Makes sense," Schanke agreed. "And...thanks." Glancing at his watch, he started to get up from the couch. "And now back to everyday--ow!"

"What is it?" Nick jumped to his partner's assistance. "You got slammed pretty hard. I think you might be hurt worse than you thought."

"Yeah," Schanke gasped. "I think maybe I broke a rib or two."

"You didn't," came Natalie's desolate voice from the stairs. "I did." Descending the rest of the way, she added, "I couldn't sleep, and I couldn't help overhearing." She hesitated at the foot of the stairs. "I'm still a doctor, Schanke, if it's okay..."

Both of them looked at Nick, who nodded, and Schanke answered, "Sure."

He winced as he moved to take off his jacket, and Natalie strode across the room, her professional demeanor returning for the first time. "Careful, you're going to make it worse," she admonished him, gingerly pulling the jacket off. He flinched as she checked over his ribs. "Hold still, willya? I don't bi--" She cut herself short, realizing what she was saying. "Never mind."

The impromptu examination continued in silence, until Natalie informed him shakily that he had two broken ribs and some minor internal bleeding. "I'd rather you didn't have to drive yourself to the ER, but you should get there soon, and we..."

"Well, it's going to do me a lot less damage than it would you," Schanke quipped. "And I'm in no hurry to see either of you go up in flames, thanks. I'll be okay." He paused. "Now, as for how I'm going to explain to the captain just how I managed to break ribs on my lunch hour..."

"You'll think of something, Schank," Nick assured him.

"Uh...yeah."


	7. Chapter 7

"_Bonsoir, mon coeur, mon amie_." Janette was all smiles as she swung aside the elevator door, waving a wine bottle in her other hand. "Sorry, _chéri_, but I simply don't want to consider trying to stomach that stuff you keep around tonight. Would you two care to join me?"

"No, thanks," Nick replied. "I have to go to work."

Natalie turned around on the couch to give Janette a dubious look. "Where did it come from?"

The dark-haired woman's smile did not fade as she clucked her tongue, replying, "My, aren't we particular? You needn't worry, nobody died for it."

"But it's human, right?"

"Well, of course." Janette made an impatient noise. "Really, Natalie, why is this any different from a mortal transfusion? You even did that for Nick. Would you have argued before this if you needed it in a hospital?"

"Is that where it came from?" Nat persisted.

"As a matter of fact, yes," the other answered. "Nicolas is not the only one with human connections, you know. It isn't safe to live as we once did."

"It wasn't then," Nick put in. "But there were alternatives then, too. We just didn't take them. And not everyone always does now, do they?"

Janette shrugged. "Everyone is careful."

"That isn't the point."

"Not for you, darling. And I know not for Natalie. But you said you had to go to work, _n'est-ce pas_?"

With a sigh, Nick instructed, "Don't give her a hard time, Janette. Just agree to disagree, okay?"

"Whatever you say."

He shook his head, turning to Natalie. "You going to be okay?"

Smiling in answer, she said, "I'll be fine. I don't think we're likely to pull each other's hair out or anything."

"Okay." He squeezed her hand. "Hang in there, Nat."

"I will."

When he had gone, Janette went to the kitchen and pulled two glasses from the cupboard. "You're hungry," she said matter-of-factly. "I don't care whether it's from my supply or his, but you're going to have _something_. Mine will do you more good, though."

"What do you mean?"

"I knew he wouldn't have told you." Janette poured her glass full from the bottle she had brought. "Any blood can sustain us, but we gain the most strength from human. Strength you might need if Paul gives you more trouble. Strength to help keep your power under control."

Natalie considered this a moment, then shook her head. "No. That's not a taste I want to acquire."

"Suit yourself." Janette poured a glass from a bottle in Nick's refrigerator and handed it to Natalie, then put her own bottle in the fridge before settling at the table across from the coroner. "Well, isn't this cozy?"

"I do appreciate this, Janette," the new vampire told her. "I know you only put up with me for Nick's sake, and--"

"You shouldn't make assumptions about other people's motives," Janette interrupted her. "I see no reason why we can't be friends."

Nat chuckled. "You mean besides diametrically opposed philosophies of life?"

"Don't be so sure of that either. Oh, different perspectives, yes; but isn't that what makes the world go round?" She smiled, taking a sip from her glass. "At any rate, it would hardly make sense for me to dislike you just because you agree with Nick...or for that matter just because he loves you."

Blinking in surprise at the sudden shift, Natalie asked, "Why do you say that?"

"Because I've known him far longer than you have, and I know the signs. He's always refused to acknowledge it for your safety; but then, that isn't a problem any more, hm?"

Natalie shifted uncomfortably. "No offense, Janette, but I think you're really off on the wrong track."

"Maybe." Janette swallowed the last sip of her supper. "But I was telling you a story last night, wasn't I?"

"Yes, you were. Why did Nick stop you? What happened?"

"Something else for that conscience of his to torture him with."

* * *

"Choose!"

"All right." Janette stood straight and looked LaCroix in the face. "I don't think it's necessary to put him out in Paul's place," she went on coldly, "but perhaps a taste of the sun. Just so he will remember."

LaCroix nodded, giving her an approving little smile. "Not bad, my dear. Not bad at all." Then the smile went as cold as his pale eyes. "But a good idea can always be improved upon."

Without warning he seized her by the wrist and stalked toward the tower stairs, dragging her behind him.

"What are you doing, LaCroix?" Nicholas demanded, trailing after them.

The master vampire ignored the question, pulling Janette into a bare chamber near the top of the keep. He threw open the shutters on the single window, standing clear of the sunlight and turning to the apprehensive former knight. "Pay close attention, Nicholas."

"LaCroix, no!"

Ignoring him again, LaCroix pulled back Janette's sleeve and thrust her hand into the light. Steam rose from her skin, slim fingers flexing convulsively as she suppressed a gasp of pain.

When LaCroix made no move to let her go, Nicholas rushed forward to intervene. "Stop it, LaCroix! There's no reason to hurt her!"

Without sparing him a glance, LaCroix backhanded him away and pushed Janette's arm into the sunlight nearly to the elbow. She clamped her jaw firmly, but not before another gasp escaped her. From the corner of her eye she was aware of Nicholas picking himself up from the floor, but she could not pull her eyes away from the smoke streaming from her own pale skin. She felt oddly detached from the sight, as if she were not looking at her arm at all. The same could not be said for the pain, however, and as it built rapidly to intolerability she bit savagely at her lip to keep from crying out, knowing LaCroix would taunt her mercilessly for such a weakness. But the seconds passed, and he showed no sign of ending the torment.

"LaCroix, please!" she begged at last, the words spiraling into a scream before she could prevent it.

"Leave her alone!" Nicholas rushed forward again, and LaCroix released her abruptly, without emphasis.

Nicholas looked over the burnt hand to be certain it was healing as it should, then gently pulled her sleeve back into place as LaCroix closed the shutters. Holding her close, Nicholas buried a hand in her raven hair, glowering at LaCroix over her head.

"Have I made my point, Nicholas?" the master asked mildly.

* * *

"My God," Natalie whispered, staring at Janette in shock. "Did he...was that kind of thing common?"

Her companion nodded, shuddering slightly at memories she seldom faced. "He knew from the beginning that Nick could be hurt most effectively by another's suffering, and I was convenient."

"And important to Nick," Natalie added. "So when he did something LaCroix didn't like, you paid for it."

"Something like that."

"Why did you put up with it? How could you stay in a situation like that?"

Before Janette could reply, both women started at the sound of the elevator. When the door slid aside, it was Paul who stood there. "Good evening, ladies," he greeted them congenially. "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I interrupting your girl talk?"

"How did you get in here?" Natalie demanded, anger covering a rush of fear.

"You mean the security system?" he asked, strolling across the room toward them. "You gave me the code; don't you remember?"

"I did no such thing!"

"It isn't your fault, Natalie," Janette said, placing herself between them. "He knows how to take what he wants."

Paul laughed shortly. "And you don't?"

Without answering, Janette snapped, "I advise you to turn around and go right back the way you came, and never look back."

"I don't think so." In the blink of an eye he passed by Janette to take hold of Nat's arm. "Hello, little girl. How are you enjoying your new life?"

She tried to get away, but he kept tight hold of her. "Why didn't you just kill me?"

Grasping her chin and forcing her to face him, Paul replied calmly, "You said you didn't want to die."

"I didn't want this!"

"Of course not. But as much as Nicholas valued your pretty neck, what is one mortal life really worth?" He smiled. "Ah, but the trust of an innocent soul...now there's a precious commodity.

And even though your work meant examining day after day all the ways in which mortals can destroy each other, in your own way you remained as innocent as my Aurélie. What gives Nicholas the right to such a gift?"

"What gives you the right to take it away?" Janette hissed, pulling him away from Natalie. "Why should she pay for what Nicholas did centuries before she was born?"

"She hasn't," Paul shot back. "Not enough. Not yet." Suddenly he grabbed Janette, pinning her arms behind her back. "So chivalrous of him, to rescue his lady from herself. I should have left her where he couldn't find her. And now he has left you to help guard her precious innocence." Producing a match from his pocket, he struck it with his thumbnail and held it a hair's-breadth from Janette's face. "Rather an ironic responsibility for a whore." Seizing a handful of her hair, he held the flame against her cheek, freeing her hands to push vainly at the hand holding the match.

"Damn you!" Natalie shouted, slamming into Paul with all her new strength and knocking him away from Janette. "She's dealt with more than anyone should have to, and so have I! Go away and leave us alone!"

"Well, well, the kitten has found her claws." Paul smirked, backing away calmly as Natalie advanced on him.

"Go away!" she repeated. "You got your revenge you were so obsessed with, and destroyed my life in the process! You give Janette hell for helping me, which she didn't have to do. You went way out of any imaginable bounds. And you are _not_ my master, so _get out_!"

By now she had stalked him across the room until he stood with his back to the window by the fireplace, the infuriating smirk never faltering. "And what sharp claws they are, little kitten. But you're wrong; I gave you immortality and you belong to me."

"I don't want it and I don't want you! Get out!"

"A little kitten with a big meow," Paul taunted softly. "Make me."

"Natalie, don't!" Janette called, but it was too late. The coroner's scream of frustration and rage shifted into a vampire's growl as she threw herself again at Paul, sending them both through the window to the alley below.

"And so she's found her wings as well," he laughed as she alighted on her feet, not really noticing that she had done so. "Show your claws, kitten. Teach me a lesson."

Janette followed through the shattered window, landing in the alley as Paul threw the furious convert into the brick wall. Cracks appeared in the mortar behind Natalie's head, and she slumped to the concrete, stunned.

"Leave her alone!" Janette railed, clinging to the shreds of her authoritative dignity.

"Or what?" he asked in amusement, advancing on her. "You have never had any strength, my lady. You only put on airs."

"Hey, what's going on here?" A young man, about eighteen, ran into the alley brandishing a knife. "Picking on ladies, dude?" He looked Janette over appreciatively. "I wouldn't mind spending a little time with her either, but where I come from you _ask_. Are we gonna have a problem?"

"Oh, I don't think it will be a problem at all," Paul answered, taking a step toward him.

Natalie stirred, and the youth crouched beside her, eyes and blade still trained on the slowly approaching man. "Hey, you okay, lady?"

Still disoriented, she reacted to the nearby male voice with the speed of instinct, and before she could form a coherent thought the boy was dead.

"Well done," Paul congratulated her as she looked up from the body, not yet fully aware of what she had done. "Poor little kitten, she's lost her mittens, and can't control her claws. Quite unique, isn't it, Natalie--to feel the blood wash the light from your soul." This said, he favored each woman with an ironic little bow, then took to the air and left them in shocked silence.


	8. Chapter 8

Nick's Cadillac screeched to a halt at the curb outside the Raven. It was well after closing time, and the club was dark and nearly deserted as he sprinted inside.

"What happened?" he asked urgently the second he spotted Janette perched on a barstool, a scarf draped over her head and one side of her face. "Why are you here instead of my place?"

"Paul happened," she answered simply. "He pushed her too far, and a mortal got in the way. I couldn't stop her and deal with him too."

"I should never have expected you to," Nick answered tightly. "She's my responsibility, not yours."

Janette shook her head, pulling the silk back up when it threatened to slip off. "You could not have prevented it either. It had to happen, Nicolas. She is what she is, just as we are."

Instead of answering, Nick pushed the scarf back from her head, revealing the ugly burn on her cheek. "Oh, Janette."

"It's nothing, _chéri_," she told him lightly. "It will be gone in no time. It's Natalie who needs you now."

"Where is she?"

"In my office. No windows, no wood, nothing to start a fire. She wants to die, Nicolas, and she didn't even want to wait until you arrived. She's ashamed to face you." Nick closed his eyes, pain etched on his face, and Janette leaned forward to kiss him. "It will be all right, you'll see. She'll survive; that is what we do."

The sight that greeted him in the darkened office turned his spine to ice. Natalie huddled in the corner behind the desk, trying to make herself as small as possible or even to disappear.

Her head snapped up as he entered, despair peering out at him from behind the veil of wild hair, a smudge of blood still staining her chin. "I'm sorry," she whispered simply. Then she buried her face against her knees again.

Silently Nick crossed the room to sit beside her on the floor, drawing her into his arms.

"How can you stand to touch me?" she sobbed. "That poor kid...He was trying to help me, Nick! He thought Paul was...and I..."

"Hey, hey, shh. I know, Nat, believe me. I did it more times than I can count, remember? I understand. But your friends still love you, and we're not going to give up on you." Pulling a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, he did his best to wipe the tears and the traces of blood from her face. "Schanke's worried sick."

"Schanke's crazy," she returned. "I almost killed him!"

"But you didn't," Nick pointed out. "So you'll just have to put up with him worrying about you."

The halfhearted levity was a total failure, but that was no surprise. "Well, he doesn't have to worry," she said dully.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not moving from this spot until it gets light, and then I'm going outside."

"No!" Taking her firmly by the shoulders, he went on, "Listen to me, Nat. I'm the last person to downplay how serious this is, but you can't let it destroy you. You said yourself suicide is _never_ the answer."

"I've been proved wrong on a few things since then, haven't I?"

"I can't deny that," he admitted. "Everybody's wrong sometimes, whether you think you're allowed to be or not. I still think you're wrong a lot less than most people--and when you have been, it's usually because you're angry and scared and hurting. Like now. And believe me, you're wrong now."

Natalie shook her head. "This can't ever, ever happen again. And there's only one way to be sure of that, I know that now."

"That's not true!"

"It is true! Janette got distracted for a few seconds, Nick, and I was gone! She did her best with a responsibility that she didn't ask for, and I can't keep dumping it on her."

Nick looked away from her. "No. That was a mistake, and it wasn't fair to her or anybody else. But the responsibility is mine, Nat. I chose to take it on, and I swear I won't blow it again."

"What are you going to do, watch me every second?"

"If that's what it takes."

"I can't ask that of you." Nat drew her knees up more tightly against her chest, pulling away from him. "We have both worked too hard getting your life together for me to ruin it now."

"_My_ life," Nick repeated, holding her again. "My choice. My gift to the friend who has always been there when _I_ needed _her_." Smoothing back her tangled hair, he continued, "If you're determined to die, you know I can't really stop you. But it isn't the only way, and it certainly isn't the best. And I truly believe you would cause more pain than you would prevent."

"I can't live like this," she sobbed quietly.

"Neither could I," Nick reminded her. "And whatever you think right now, I know you're strong enough to beat it. I'll be there to help you, I promise."

"I don't know..."

"Then don't do it," he urged.

She didn't answer for a moment, then said, "I never met Erica, but I think I understand her now. I couldn't believe that someone who could write that beautiful play, who was loved by so many people, could think she was a burden. But now..."

"Erica was wrong," he told her emphatically. "She was afraid of the world, afraid she couldn't keep making a place for herself in it. She was wrong for all the reasons you told me I was wrong when I considered following her. And for all the reasons you're wrong now."

Natalie lowered her head, madwoman's mane falling in her face again. "That's what I would say if I were you. I don't know yet if I believe it."

"Don't do it, Nat," he persisted. "Don't give up. You're stronger than that, I know you!"

"I wish I could be sure of that."

"Be sure. Or if you can't, at least wait until you can make a clear decision. You can't think rationally about this now; nobody could." He lifted her face to look at him, tucking her hair behind one ear. "It's your choice, Natalie. But death is a choice you can't take back. And not being sure is _not_ a reason."

"No, it isn't." She took a deep breath, pulling together the scattered pieces of her composure. "So what do I do?"

"Get some rest," he replied. "Learn from your mistakes. Start fresh tomorrow. It's the only thing you _can_ do, Nat. The only way to survive."

She laughed bitterly. "Survive. Is that all I can do now, Nick?"

"No. But you have to start there."

"And where do I finish?"

She had retreated further away from him, into the corner, sitting ramrod-straight with her mangled emotional armor locked tight, and this time he would not let her get away with it. "Where you finish is entirely up to you," he answered, pulling her back to enfold her in a secure hug. Forced to accept support, her brittle pretense of stability crumbled and she hid her face in his shoulder and cried.

Nick wanted desperately to tell her it was all right, to tell her anything that would halt the broken weeping and make her smile and hold up her head, make her the Natalie he knew again. But he

had learned over the past two years that much of that was a brilliant façade, designed to reassure those she loved so they wouldn't notice her tearing out her heart for them. This time, whether she wanted it or not, she had to let someone else be the strong one. If he let her pretend now that everything was fine, she would continue to pretend until there was no hope of making it reality.

So he let her cry until there was no more crying left, until emotional exhaustion and a need to retreat from the bleak place her world had become took their toll, and she fell asleep with her

face still buried against his coat. Carefully he shifted her to a more comfortable position, cradling her tangled head in his lap.

The office door swung quietly open, and he looked up to see Janette silhouetted against the dim daytime light of the club. "One of us who sleeps like a child," she mused, shutting the door behind her. "You have to take her away, Nicolas. She can't stay here, she has to start over somewhere new."

"I know." He shook his head. "What I don't know is where to go." After a moment he asked, "Where's Charlotte now? Still in London?"

"Denver." Janette pulled the desk chair next to him and sat down. "She opened a café downtown about a year ago."

"Denver," he repeated thoughtfully, then looked up at Janette. "I don't suppose you could--"

"I'll call her and make the arrangements now," she interrupted. "It's still two hours to dawn there, so I should be able to reach her. And I suppose you'll want to drive that relic of yours, so if we plan for you to stop in Detroit, then somewhere in Iowa, I think, then--"

"Janette." The tone of his voice stopped her cold, and she waited for him to continue. "That's not what I was going to ask."

A sad smile crossed her face and she reached out to touch his cheek. "I think I'd like to go with you, _chéri_; but we both know it wouldn't work. I am mistress here and I like it; I don't wish to play rivals with Charlotte. Anyway, her crowd isn't my style." She nodded at Natalie. "Which is why it's the best place for her."

"I know."

"Cheer up, Nicky; you know you'll be seeing me again. Just like the bad penny. When I get bored with this place. When Natalie doesn't need you so desperately."

"We still might find a way, Janette," he reminded her.

"To become human?" Janette shrugged. "Believe that if you like. I choose not to think about it." She leaned forward to kiss him lightly. "Surely you're not going to sit on the floor all day? There's an empty room straight back down the hall; get her to a bed and get some sleep yourself. I have to call Charlotte."

He stood up, carrying Natalie as if she were a little girl up long past bedtime. "I really owe you for this."

Laughing softly, without her characteristic sarcasm, Janette replied, "Have we ever truly kept track?"


	9. Chapter 9

"Naddie Naddie Naddie Naddie!"

"Go 'way, Richie, I'm coloring!"

"Read, Naddie!" the toddler insisted, unimpressed by big sister's artistic endeavors. "Fish, Naddie! Read read!"

"That book _again_?" Natalie sighed with a degree of exasperation attainable only by a child of almost five. She practically knew it by heart, the first book she had ever read all by herself. She would rather try the new one with the cat in the hat, even though it was harder and she hadn't figured out all the words yet.

But Richie never got tired of the fish book, and she could not resist his grin as he held it out to her in his chubby grubby baby hands. "Read, Naddie!" he pleaded.

"Okay, okay." She accepted the colorful book, taking Richie's hand to lead him to the big armchair where they always wedged themselves to read. "'One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish,'" she began.

As usual, Richie's two-year-old attention began to waver about when they hit the funny-looking guy who said, "My hat is old, my teeth are gold..." On the next page he stood on one hand and said it all backwards, Natalie's favorite funny part. But by then Richie had wriggled out of the chair, heading for the bright square of sunlight on the living-room carpet. Something about that was dangerous, wasn't it? "No, Richie!"

And then he wasn't a baby any longer, but a man tall and strong. No, not just strong, but immortal, and drunk on power and the blood of five people. All because she couldn't let him go, couldn't accept the cruel twist of fate that sought to snatch him away. Nick had tried to warn her, tried to make her see reason, but she had hit him with every weapon in her considerable arsenal until he gave in.

"God made a mistake this time!" Had she really said that? Nick knew better, Nick who still believed he was damned, that no matter what he did he was fundamentally evil.

"Evil is a metaphysical condition," he'd told her that first crazy night when chance brought him to her in a body bag. But she hadn't let him frighten her away, so certain that she knew better.

Just as she had been this time--how arrogant could you get? After all this time, more than she could really comprehend, Nick still knew God didn't make mistakes. For her, though, he had gone against his better judgment and done as she asked--what he would not do when Alyce Hunter begged him for it, or when Denise Ford died in his arms before he could fly her to help.

And now, too late, she understood why, as her cherished little brother ruthlessly slammed Nick and then herself aside in pursuit of his terrified wife. Natalie came to on the floor, halfway across the room, and hauled herself upright just as the sunlight struck Richard and he was gone.

* * *

"No, Richie!"

Nick started awake, disoriented for a split second to find himself sitting in an unfamiliar chair in an unfamiliar room. He hadn't intended to fall asleep, but Natalie had slept soundly through the day until now, which by his watch was about five o'clock.

He moved to the edge of the bed where she sat suddenly upright, shaking her head to clear away the last cobweb strands of dream. "Must've been a doozy," Nick said.

"You could say that." She pushed her hair back from her face. "I've made a decision," she told him, her voice rock-steady.

"And?"

"I don't want to die, Nick. I'm not giving up."

A broad grin split his face and relief flooded his voice as he answered, "That's the best news I've heard all week."

"Well, I hope so!" she chuckled, returning the smile.

A light knock sounded on the door and Janette poked her head inside. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine, thanks," Nat replied.

Their hostess nodded, taking note of the smudged, rumpled blouse the other woman still wore. "I'm pleased to hear that. Why don't I get you some clean clothes?"

Natalie raised an eyebrow. "No offense, but...is there anything in your closet you honestly think I could carry off without looking like a grade-A idiot?"

"Don't sell yourself short." Janette cocked her head, a mischievous smile lighting her face momentarily. "I'll see what I can do."

When she had gone, Natalie asked, "Why am I not sure I like the sound of that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Nick began, cutting off with a chuckle at her sharp questioning look.

* * *

"But why run away now?" The silk crepe halter dress Janette had produced for her was not exactly Nat's normal style, but she hadn't felt as foolish donning it as she had expected. The black silk rustled around her knees as she and Nick walked across the club. "I mean, I'm ready to pick up my life again, and you tell me we have to skip town?"

"You really think you're ready? You think you can be Natalie Lambert, Ontario coroner, business as usual?"

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it, Nat. How many times have you lied to our friends to cover for me? Now you have to cover for you, too. Are you ready to face Stonetree, or Grace? What happens next time your sister-in-law asks you out to lunch? Do you have any idea what you'll tell them?" Not giving her a chance to reply, he continued bluntly, "Are you ready to dissect the boy you killed last night?"

She focussed on the floor. "No. No, of course not. But..."

"It's time to disappear, Nat. I'm sorry, but it's the only choice. After tonight, Natalie Lambert and Nick Knight no longer exist."

* * *

She looked over her shoulder one last time, but all she could see of the city where she had lived her whole life were the lights at the top of the CN Tower.

The Caddy now bore Colorado license plates, green mountains silhouetted against white. She examined the false driver's license Janette had supplied, trying to accustom herself to being

Natalie Ryan of Denver. A U.S. citizen--than in itself was pretty weird.

All they could bring with them was in the back seat of the Cadillac; the trunk remained empty in case something went wrong en route and morning caught them without shelter. A few more things--but not much--had been packed in a box for Janette to mail after them. But everything else had been left behind. They had truly vanished, the sort of missing-persons case that never gets solved.

Since Nick's car was gone and hers was still there, they would probably think that he had kidnapped her or something; but he insisted that none of that mattered. They were different people now.

"I hope Sydney's okay," she fretted. "I wish we could have brought him along."

"You and me and a car going missing is one thing," Nick reminded her. "Taking the cat would have been too odd. Besides, he might not be safe around some of the others."

"I know, I know. And Schanke promised that Jenny would take good care of him."

"Yeah." Nick shook his head. "This would have been a whole lot harder to pull off without his help. I think he's a better liar than either of us."

"I think you're right." She looked back again, almost involuntarily; Toronto was now quite out of sight. "It bugs me that Paul didn't show up to give us more trouble."

"I know. It doesn't make sense," Nick agreed. "Unless he decided that by goading you into killing he got what he was after."

"And then some."

Nick glanced over at her, reaching out to take her hand. "No. He wanted to destroy you, and I don't think he succeeded. Do you?"

She smiled and squeezed his hand. "No."

"And he never will," Nick concluded positively.

Natalie said nothing, turning her attention back to the road before them, waiting to see where it would lead.


End file.
